


Hungrier for Hard Use

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: A sated goddess in her arms and a god stunned into silence—it’s been millennia since Valkyrie bedded another Asgardian, but she hasn't lost her touch.





	Hungrier for Hard Use

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ark/gifts).



> For [Ark](http://et-in-arkadia.tumblr.com/), who gave me the idea of Lady Loki and Valkyrie letting Thor watch them in action and let me run away with it.

As a rule, Valkyrie prefers blondes, but there are always exceptions. And what an exception is Loki of Asgard. 

But not as a man. Valkyrie’s taste in men runs to big, dumb types, which Loki is decidedly _not_. As a woman, however…

Valkyrie almost hadn’t recognized her at first, to be honest, although they don’t actually look terrifically different. But Loki wears power so differently in that form, softer of voice but no less sharp. And when she smirked at Valkyrie, she found herself smirking back, which sparked a chain of smirking and finding until she found herself flat on her back in her quarters with the God _dess_ of Mischief’s face buried between her thighs.

 _Silver tongued indeed_ , she thought hazily, before coming with a shake and shudder quite unlike anything she experienced in her exile on Sakaar. 

She’s never been known for making the best decisions when it comes to bedmates, and Loki comes with several high voltage warning labels slapped on her. Whenever Loki turns up on the bridge as himself and stays that way for a while, she wonders if this is really the wisest choice. But when Loki herself turns up at her door, asking a question she already knows the answer to, she can’t find it in… well, not her _heart_ , but definitely her loins to turn her away. 

It’s actually quite an efficient arrangement; “friends” (to use the term very loosely) with benefits, as they say on Midgard. 

The only complicated part about bedding the Goddess of Mischief is the God of Thunder. 

She _knows_ —she’s heard the rumors, she’s seen the way they look at each other—but she doesn’t _know_ for certain until, after a long spell away from her bed, Loki hisses “Thor is a sentimental _fool_ ” while she’s speared on three of Valkyrie’s fingers. 

Afterwards—the Valkyrie motto was _never leave a sister behind_ and she’s taken that to heart—she lets Loki curl around her and asks, “So it’s true, then?”

“What’s true,” Loki sighs, palming Valkyrie’s stomach. 

“You and Thor?”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Loki says. “Yes.”

“Ah.”

“Does that change things?” Loki props up her head, dark hair spilling out around her, the edges of it haloed by the faint light of the galaxy emanating from the viewport. She goes very still.

Valkyrie considers it. Honestly, it doesn’t—compared to the atrocities committed by Hela and, it must be said, Odin, this is downright _tame_.

“No,” she says, after a long pause, and Loki visibly relaxes. “In any case, he’s not a bad looking fellow,” she says, and laughs at the jealous face Loki makes. 

After that, she imagines herself in a bit of a contest with Thor, especially when she learns that he is just as enthusiastic about Loki’s cunt as she is. Imagining Loki— _this_ Loki, _her_ Loki—and Thor entwined in passionate embrace is not an unpleasant image, but she doesn’t realize how much she likes it until, alone one night, she comes with a grunt by her own hand at the idea of Loki impaling herself on Thor’s presumably well-proportioned cock. 

One night, after a rather public royal argument, she enthrones Loki on her face. Valkyrie jabs up just so with her tongue while nosing at her clit and Loki almost _shrieks_. “I want him to see!” she wails, eyes unfocused, clawing at her face. “I want him to see what you do to me that he _can’t_!”

And, like so many things, Loki has only to speak the words aloud and it becomes reality. 

Valkyrie’s not involved in the negotiations. She’s only informed that Thor will be joining them in Loki’s quarters a few days hence, which makes it difficult to meet his eye during the course of her normal duties.

Loki, of course, finds this hilarious. 

When she turns up those days hence in Loki’s quarters, Thor is already there, seated in an armchair pulled up to the foot of Loki’s spacious bed. “Hi,” she says, taking her usual position to his left. 

“Hello,” Thor says brightly. “You look nice.”

She’d had no idea what to wear to something like this. It’s not like her usual assignations with Loki are planned to this degree or that she would care to dress up for such an occasion if they are. Despite her fastidiousness of dress, Loki doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’d once cornered her after training, complaining about the smell but clearly enjoying herself. Valkyrie settled on her sleep tunic and a pair of training leggings. 

“Thanks,” she says. “So do you.” Thor is equally casually dressed, in his usual colors. It occurs to her that this is something Loki must have picked out for him—Thor pays about as much attention to his wardrobe as she does. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence as they wait for Loki. “So,” Thor says, congenially, as if they’re about to spar, “how long have you and my sister been…” He makes a vague but surprisingly vulgar gesture with his hand.

“A few months, off and on,” she answers. “How about you?”

“Ah…” Thor screws up his face, thinking. “A few centuries? But also off and on.”

“But… on right now, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” Thor says, smiling besottedly and straightening up. “Very, _very_ on. In fact, I find it quite encouraging that she arranged this evening.”

He turns his big, dumb grin at her, and Valkyrie feels her stomach flip. She smirks back. 

“And you’re sure you’re completely fine with this?”

“Sorry, what?” 

“You’re fine with it? I mean, I’ll be here,” Thor gestures to his seat, “you’ll be there,” he gestures to the bed. “She’ll be…” He waggles his head a little, which is actually somehow more obscene than the hand gesture.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Valkyrie crosses her arms. “I do think you’re quite nice to look at, you know.”

Thor blinks, taken aback. “You–you do?”

She sinks onto the edge of the bed, smiling. “I like big, dumb, blonde boys. You’re as big as they come, your majesty.” 

“You, ah, haven’t said anything.”

Valkyrie shrugs. “Been a bit busy, haven’t I?”

Thor leans in conspiratorially. “Does she know?”

“Do I know what?” 

They both turn to the doorway, where Loki is leaning with her forearm against the frame, hand gripping it, dark nails shining. Valkyrie has seen Loki many ways many times, but she has never seen her like this. She looks _resplendent_ , as if dressed for the high court of Asgard-that-was. There’s a net of jewels in her wild, dark hair, and her caped emerald gown is held together by a great emblem nearly at her navel. 

And she’s wearing her helm. 

Valkyrie is on her feet before she realizes, and Thor is not far behind. “My lady,” she says, and Loki turns her great, horned head to her and smiles her sharp, hard smirk, the same one that drew her in against her better judgment all those weeks ago. 

Loki slinks into the room—and the pauldrons attaching the cape to the gown are _fur_ , of course they are. She reaches Thor first, reaching out to cup his face. Thor lights up at her touch. _So easy to read_ , Valkyrie thinks. 

Loki is close enough to kiss him, but she does not. Instead, she looks up the scant distance into his face and puts her other hand on his impressive chest. She purses her lips and gives his chest a fond little squeeze—which Valkyrie wouldn’t mind having a go at herself, if she’s being honest—and then pushes him, gently but firmly, back into his seat.

Thor goes down willingly.

She turns dramatically to Valkyrie; the gown drapes beautifully over her curves. “Valkyrie,” Loki breathes in greeting, and kisses her firmly, with intent. She feels herself flush all over, but the kiss is just a taste, to make her all the more hungry. 

Loki drapes her arms around her shoulders, looking down into her face. Loki is pleased, so Loki looks smug, which looks galaxies more appealing to her on this face than any of the others. Her hands go to Loki’s waist, and she presses her thumbs softly against the slight softness of her skin through the thin gown, just enough to know that Loki is not wearing anything else underneath. 

They sway like that for a moment, staring each other down, and then Loki coughs and glances at Thor. “Oh dear,” she says. “I appear to be a little overdressed.”

“I can help with that,” Valkyrie says. She leans in a little, tilting her face up at Loki, taking in the intoxicating smell of her hair, her skin. Her hands move to the heavy emblem valiantly trying to keep the gown together. “And how does this come off?”

She pushes it together before Loki even answers her, and the emblem unlatches, swinging wide to the left. The gown parts like water, threatening to slither off completely, and Valkyrie thumbs the right edge, meaning to slide it off. But Loki stays her hand with hers and pulls her closer by the waist with the other, pressing their heads together.

“Tell me the rules again,” she says, looking at Thor.

Thor blinks, as if he hasn’t in quite some time. He shakes his head minutely and says, “I am not to touch.”

Loki strokes the back of Valkyrie’s neck, sending a thrill of pleasure down her spine. “Not to touch what?” She can feel Loki’s smirk against her cheek. The smell of her is making Valkyrie flush and stir. She squeezes Loki’s waist gently. Loki shifts and licks her lips. 

“I am not to touch you or her or myself.” 

“Himself?” Valkyrie asks, pulling back to look at Loki. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

Loki sniffs, tossing her great, helmed head. “Educational, more like. This isn’t for his amusement or pleasure.” 

“No, it’s not,” Valkyrie says. “It’s for yours.”

Loki grins at her. “Precisely,” she says, and cups her head to kiss her, opening her mouth. Loki runs cold—it’s the Jötun in her—but her mouth is hot. 

Valkyrie groans into her mouth after a moment, giving back as good as she gets. But the moment she relaxes into it, Loki _nips_ at her bottom lip, sharp enough to make her pull back and lick at her lip to see if Loki’s broken skin. 

Loki smiles as sweetly as she can manage at her, which is to say, not at all. The gown has fallen wide, revealing a column of pale flesh interrupted only by the dark hair between her legs. Valkyrie smoothes a hand over Loki’s shoulder, flicking the gown off of her. It pools at their feet. 

Thor doesn’t gasp, but he does inhale sharply. 

Loki reaches up to remove her helm, but Valkyrie stops her hand with hers. “Leave it.”

“Excuse me?” Loki asks, looking amused. “You wish to take me in my helm?”

“It’s the only way I haven’t,” she teases, and it hits home: not with Loki, already growing eager under her touch, but with Thor, who shifts in his seat. She takes Loki’s face in both her hands, the metal warming under her touch, and kisses her. Gently at first, but Loki soon surrenders her mouth to her. 

Loki groans when Valkyrie moves her mouth down her neck and chest, pressing a sweet, almost chaste kiss to one nipple, taking it between her lips. She earns a shudder when she presses her tongue thickly into her navel. Somewhere, Thor clears his throat, but she barely hears it. She nearly takes a knee before Loki, looking up into her face as she crouches down.

“Do you think it’s that easy to get me on my knees?” Valkyrie asks, and seizes Loki about her full hips and throws her onto the bed.

Thor nearly stands up; Loki cackles in delight, landing awkwardly on her side, arching her neck to avoid spearing the bedding with her horns. She pulls her thigh up, obscuring her cunt, and plants her hands on the bed. There’s a challenge written in every line of her body. 

Valkyrie whips off her tunic and shucks her leggings. She should probably feel a little more weird about disrobing so casually in front of her liege lord, but she knows he fancies a look. She’d fancy one right back. 

She shakes her head, brandishing her long, dark braid, and clambers onto the bed.

Loki drops her shoulders submissively as Valkyrie advances. “How do you want me?” she asks, as if this all wasn’t her idea. 

“Open, for a start,” Valkyrie says, grabbing her knee and hauling her thighs open. Loki sits up, long legs sprawling, and Valkyrie slots herself between them, throwing her dark thighs over Loki’s. 

By now, Loki is hot all over, warmed by her own desire and Valkyrie’s touch. Valkyrie crushes their mouths together and gets lost in it, scratching her nails up and down the smooth plane of Loki’s back as Loki fits a hand between them to cup and squeeze her breast, pinching at her nipple and earning a sharp gasp lost in the joining of their mouths. 

“Valkyrie,” Loki says, after a long while, between kisses, “we’re ignoring our guest.”

Valkyrie pulls away, mouth wet and kiss-bitten, to glance over her shoulder at Thor. Thor’s eyes are wide as saucers, but, true to his word, his hands are fisted on the armrest, well away from the sizable bulge tenting his tunic. 

She lets Loki inelegantly scoot them the ninety degrees for Thor to get a better view, scowling at the pause in the action. Frankly, she thinks, sourly, any view of them would be amazing, so he ought to be grateful he’s even here.

She’s startled from the petty thought by Loki grabbing her arse and squeezing, _hard_ , in a way that makes her cunt clench and ache, and then _actually smacking it._

She’s got Loki shoved down to the bed in an instant, winding the long rope of her dark hair around her fist and wrist, a jewel biting into the palm of her hand. “If you want it rough, _darling_ ,” she hisses in her ear, “I can make it rough.”

Loki’s green eyes glitter. Her cunt, unfurling and wet against Valkyrie’s thigh, pulses. Valkyrie grins, tightening her grip on her hair.

“Ah, excuse me!” 

They both turn to look at Thor. He waves, as if they may forgotten he’s there. He’s still seated quite calmly, although he’s squirming a little against his now raging erection. _Proportionate indeed_ , Valkyrie thinks, stunned by a brief vision of Loki taking it. She hopes to see that one day. “Surely,” Thor asks, “Our dear Loki has earned slightly sweeter treatment?”

“Sire,” Valkyrie says calmly, maintaining her grip in Loki’s hair, “are you telling me how to fuck your sister?”

Thor goes pale. “No, no, of course not. I am only here to watch. And—and to learn!” He laughs awkwardly. 

“Good,” Valkyrie says, and returns her attention to the writhing goddess beneath her. “Now, where was I?” 

She pulls on Loki’s hair again and swallows her sharp cry. Loki throws her arms around her, crushing them together. By now, she’s wet herself, cunt throbbing and skin tingling as Loki kisses her feverishly, their sweating bodies sliding together. But when Loki begins rutting against her thigh with unmistakable purpose, cunt hot and slick against her skin, Valkyrie hauls herself to her hands and knees.

Loki whines at the loss of contact and reaches for her, but Valkyrie seizes her wrists roughly with one hand. “Gentle!” Thor says, worry creeping into his voice, but she ignores him.

“Are you going to be good?” she asks Loki. 

“When am I ever?” Loki asks.

Valkyrie smirks. She leans down and sinks her teeth into the soft underside of her breast, and Loki _laughs_ as she shudders. 

Loki seems hungrier for hard use than usual; she’s hardly ever _docile_ , to be sure, but rarely this… willful. Valkyrie shifts her weight to take Loki’s other nipple into her mouth, tonguing it mercilessly, while reaching down to squeeze her rounded arse hard enough to make Loki whine and cant her hips up in an instinctive plea for more.

“You needn’t be so rough!” Thor calls out, attempting and failing to school his voice as if it’s a friendly suggestion rather than a desperate request. With that protestation, Valkyrie puts two and two together as she pulls off Loki’s breast, rolling her hips against her own mounting need. What a funny idea, that Thor should be gentle to the point of _dissatisfaction_ with such a treacherous wildcat.

Well, she’s never backed down from a challenge and she’s never let a woman leave her bed without getting what she came for, so far be it from her to leave Loki unsatisfied.

“I’ll be as rough as I like,” Valkyrie says, almost more to herself, and trails a hand down Loki’s belly to trace between her thighs.

Loki’s wet folds part for her, and the goddess lolls her head back at the touch. Her clit is swollen, soaked, and begging for attention, but Valkyrie ignores it, pressing the tips of two fingers against her opening. Loki yields almost immediately, and Valkyrie’s fingers sink into her silky wet heat. Loki nearly arches her back off of the bed, narrowly avoiding shredding the bedlinens with her helm, when Valkyrie spreads her fingers to test her tightness. 

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Loki breathes, groaning long and low.

“Look at that, sire!” Valkyrie can’t help herself. “She _can_ be sweet, if you know how hard to handle her.”

Thor looks downright thunderstruck.

She fingers Loki lazily, stealing a hand between her own legs to stroke herself just enough to take the edge off. Loki begins rolling her hips, trying to bear down on her fingers. Valkyrie pulls them out almost entirely in punishment before thrusting her fingers back in forcefully, earning another yowl of pleasure from Loki and another objection from the peanut gallery. 

“Oh,” Loki groans, rising to her elbows. “ _Just shut up_ , Thor!” She tosses out a careless hand, and something flies off the floor to tie itself around Thor’s mouth, effectively gagging him. 

“That’s my tunic,” Valkyrie complains, tracing a circle against Loki’s walls. She knows exactly where Loki’s rough spot is, and she sets herself to teasing it. 

Loki squirms— _deliciously_ so, in Valkyrie’s estimation—but manages to keep her head up with a valiant effort. “I make—make do with what’s at hand,” she jests. Her face is flushed.

“At hand,” Valkyrie laughs heartily, thrusting in again, and Loki’s knees nearly rise off of the bed where they bracket her own. “Why not just magic him shut, or whatever?”

“And miss the sounds of his struggle while I’m being so expertly pleasured?” Loki asks, blinking up at Valkyrie and feigning innocence. At least, until Valkyrie twists her fingers and Loki sags back onto the bed, breathing ragged.

And then furious, as Valkyrie withdraws her fingers, sucking them clean carelessly. “What do you think you’re doing?” Loki rages, almost trembling. 

“Reciprocity is a virtue, my lady,” she says. “Why don’t you show our _guest_ how good you can be?” She throws a broad wink at Thor, whose eyes are wide and whose hips are moving in a futile attempt to get relief. 

Loki trembles for a moment longer, but grows steady as the threat of her orgasm passes. Valkyrie shifts to sit back against the pillows at the head of the bed, spreading her legs, lifting her knees. She locks eyes with Thor and, on impulse, grabs one breast at him, grinning. He reddens and drops his gaze to Loki. And reddens further, as Loki rises onto all fours and crawls between Valkyrie’s legs, wet, well-fingered cunt presumably framed by her lovely thighs. 

“Is he normally this easy to embarrass in bed?” Valkyrie asks, idly tugging at her nipple as Loki presses hot, nipping kisses against her inner thighs. She rolls her hips forcefully and takes a deep breath, head growing foggy with want.

“Only when we have company,” Loki says.

“Do this often, then?”

Loki looks up from between her thighs, and with the helm, the effect is really quite stunning. Loki of Asgard, Goddess of Mischief, helm bright, hair wild, lips kissed and bitten red, bending her head to worship _her_. “You’d be the first,” she admits, breath stirring her wet curls. 

_If this is where the monarchy is headed_ , she thinks, deliriously, but doesn’t finish the thought, because Loki dives at her like a woman dying of thirst. Valkyrie gasps, squeezing her eyes shut as Loki tongues her open. Loki moans, almost desperately, against Valkyrie’s cunt, and Valkyrie reaches out to grab onto something to steady her against that magnificent noise. Instead of the usual fistful of Loki’s hair, she finds her hands wrapped around the horns of her helm. 

Valkyrie laughs, feeling almost drunk. “Is this your helm,” she asks, “or your handlebars, my lady?” She twists the horns to one side and Loki, of course, follows. Loki laughs low and deep against her pulsing, dripping cunt, and it’s almost too much. Valkyrie hadn’t realized how far gone she was. She shudders and hauls Loki up to her knees, crushing their lips together to kiss her own tangy slick from that wicked mouth. 

Valkyrie groans and kisses her harder, to avoid the edge of her desire, and succeeds; her orgasm recedes just as Loki’s did. “I thought you liked that,” Loki teases, when they come up for air.

“I _love_ that,” Valkyrie corrects. “But it’d be rude to come before royalty.”

Loki grins, even as Valkyrie spins her around so that they’re on their knees facing Thor, who looks as desperate as any man denied as she’s ever seen. 

She presses herself against the warmth of Loki’s back and reaches around to press her fingers against Loki’s mouth. Her slick-wet lips part easily, and Valkyrie presses them deep into the humidity of Loki’s mouth, knuckles bumping against her back teeth. Loki’s jaw goes slack, easily accepting them. Curious, she presses back further, to feel Loki’s tongue and throat contract. Thor gives a muffled yell as Loki struggles for a moment against her questing fingers.

“Don’t be _stupid_ ,” Loki spits hoarsely, after Valkyrie pulls her wet fingers out of her mouth. She swallows and coughs. It’s delightfully obscene, in context. “You’ve seen what I can do with your cock.” 

Valkyrie shifts her weight, finding steadier footing on the bed with her knees, and then tucks her fingers between Loki’s legs from behind. Loki sighs and shudders against her as she traces her outer lips and then presses inside, as wet and open as if she’d never removed her fingers at all. It’s not magic. Loki explained it to her once, but while they were in their cups, so she forgets the more poetic specifics, but she takes pride in the broader meaning—this is the effect she has on Loki of Asgard, an effect all her own.

She presses her chin into Loki’s shoulder, focusing on the task at hand. When she adds a third finger, Loki gives a broken moan, and Thor drops his gaze to the bed as if scalded. She jabs up and back, exactly and unerring the way Loki likes, except nowhere as hard as Loki likes.

“Sire,” she calls, and Thor looks at her, stricken, as if he’d hoped to be forgotten in the melee. “This is what you came for, isn’t it? To see? To learn?”

Thor nods stiffly, as if he might burst with excessive movement. “Then look,” Valkyrie says, and the raging heat emanating from between her legs, suffusing her entire body, sharpens into a familiar, beloved weapon. She thrusts into Loki harder, throwing her other arm around her and catching her by the throat. Valkyrie punches out little, gorgeous “ah! ah! ah!” noises out of Loki, squeezing her throat, choking her the way she likes. Loki makes a strangled cry, cunt pulsing around Valkyrie’s fingers. Her slick soaks Valkyrie’s wrist. 

When Thor looks away again, she eases back, taking Loki away from the edge, and Loki _sobs_. “Look at me!” Loki nearly _screams_ , tensing in Valkyrie’s arms but to no avail, swiveling her hips down wildly onto Valkyrie’s fingers in a futile effort to steal her completion away for herself. “I can take it, I can take it all, I can take her whole _fist_ and _yours_ and come running back for more, if you’d only—”

Thor locks eyes with Loki, and Valkyrie unerringly thrusts home, her hand threatening to cramp, and Loki comes not with a scream but a choked gasp and a blissful, rising sigh that she’s never heard before. Valkyrie lets her ride it out on her hand, enjoying her overstimulated gasp of surprise when she thrusts in one last time.

In his chair, Thor sags as if punched, or as if he came, although he obviously hasn’t. Valkyrie lowers Loki gently to the bed, slipping her fingers out of her, as she goes almost limp. Valkyrie sinks back on the bed herself, panting and still so aroused and soaked she’s almost tempted to finish herself off.

But she didn’t invite the Goddess of Mischief into her bed to come by her own hand. “Hey,” she says, gently, at first, and then louder, kicking Loki’s leg. “Who said I was finished?”

Loki lifts her head languidly and then rises to all fours, languidly smirking and swaying her hips as she crawls to Valkyrie. She glances at Thor, who appears to have broken out in a cold sweat.

“See?” Loki says, over her shoulder. “I need to be kept in line.”

She settles between Valkyrie’s legs. As sweetly and docilely as an innocent bride, Loki kisses the wet thatch of her mound and presses her hot, muscular tongue in and _down_. Her broad-tongued licks are soft, teasing, but insistent, and Valkyrie grabs both of her horns to grind her cunt furiously against Loki’s face as she comes with a strangled cry. The circles she makes with her hips grow wider and slower as her orgasm passes through her, and eventually, she lets Loki go, sinking sleepily back into the pillows. 

Loki, surprisingly affectionate in the afterglow, crawls up to _very carefully_ rest her head on Valkyrie’s shoulder. They lay like that for a moment, breathing, before Valkyrie remembers Thor’s still in the room.

His erection is unflagging, but he looks shellshocked, which makes Valkyrie’s chest fill with pride at her own prowess. A sated goddess in her arms and a god stunned into silence—it’s been millennia since Valkyrie bedded another Asgardian, but she hasn't lost her touch. 

“Loki?” she says.

“Mmmph,” Loki says.

“Loki, ungag him.”

Loki sighs and waves her hand lazily. Valkyrie’s tunic falls from his mouth, leaving it hanging open. Thor swallows and blinks, seemingly unsure of what to do. 

“He’s not allowed in the bed,” Loki declares.

Valkyrie rolls her eyes. 

“We’ve both come, we don’t have to torture the poor man,” Valkyrie says, and extends her hand over Loki’s shoulder. 

Thor understands immediately and nearly upsets the chair as he scrambles off of it. He kneels beside the bed and nuzzles her hand, inhaling deeply, as if the whole room doesn’t smell of their sex. He presses a pleasantly bristled kiss to her palm and begins licking it clean of Loki’s slick, almost as sweetly as Loki brought her off. _Pity he wasn’t allowed to join in this time_ , Valkyrie thinks. If he’s this happy getting it secondhand, she’d rather like to see him in action. 

“Next time,” Loki says, amiably, as she drifts off to sleep beside her. “Next time.”


End file.
